--- instrumental ---

   --- instrumental ---

Well, first of all,
I couldn't even see his face.
I couldn't see his face.
He was holding a gun in his hand.
Umm... I was thinking...
This is a dangerous place..
This is a dangerous place..

I said, "I'm nervous as hell from this stuff.
I thought those guys were going to kill me for sure.
They ganged up on me like that.
I couldn't believe it.
Look, I'm still shakin'.
Weird.
There out in the streets like that.
It's a dangerous place.
It's a dangerous place."

So, suddenly, these two guys appear in front of me.
They stopped.
Real aggressive.
Start at me, you know.
"What's that?" "What's that on that tape?"
What do you got there?"
I said, "huh?"
They said, "What are you talking into that for?"
I said, "It's just a tape, you know"
"Well play it for me"
I said "oh, no"
I put it off as long as I could.
And finally they turned it on, you know
They grabbed it from me.
Took it away from me.
Turned it on.
And it said, "He held a gun in his hand. This is a dangerous place."
They said, "What dangerous place?" "What gun?" "You're a policeman!"
And the deeper I talked, the worse I got into it.
I talked, I told him... I said, "Look man, I'm not talkin'...."
It went on forever.
Anyway, I finally unbuttoned my shirt, and said,
"look, look... I'm in this band, you know, I'm in this band you know,
and we're makin' a recording, you know.
It's about New York City, it's about crime in the streets..."
The explanation was going nowhere, but,
Finally, they just kinda let me go, I don't know why.
So I walk around the corner,
and I'm like shakin' like a leaf,
and I thought, "This is a dangerous place"

Who should appear, but two policeman.

   --- instrumental ---

Still, by the window pane,
Pain, like the rain that's falling.
She waits in the air,
Matte Kudasai.
She sleeps in a chair
In her sad America.

When, when was the night so long,
Long, like the notes I'm sending.
She waits in the air,
Matte Kudasai.
She sleeps in a chair
In her sad America.

   --- instrumental ---

it's here I sit and rust amid this ruin and rancor like tire irons
toothy grills and car parts before me...the acid rain floods my
floorboard, burns my pores, and rots my upholstry.. once I was
worshipped, polished magnificently, now I lay in decay by the dirty
angry bay...

I'm ready to leave
I wanna get out of here
I'm ready to ride away
I don't want to die in here
I'm ready to ride

mmy skin is metallic now, no longer an elegant powder blue... my body
unhinged and sleeping in the jungle of motor block manifolds and metal
relics... what was deluxe becomes debris, I never questioned loyalty,
but this dead end demolishes the dream of an open highway...

dig me...but don't...bury me

she is susceptible
he is impossible
they have their cross to share
three of a perfect pair...
he has his contradicting views
she has her cyclothymic moods
they make a study in despair
three of a perfect pair...

one, one too many
schizophrenic tendencies
keeps it complicated
keeps it agggravated
and full of this hopelessness
what a perfect mess...

I do remember one thing.
It took hours and hours but..
by the time I was done with it,
I was so involved, I didn't know what to think.
I carried it around with me for days and days..
playing little games
like not looking at it for a whole day
and then.. looking at it.
to see if I still liked it.
I did.

I repeat myself when under stress.
I repeat myself when under stress.
I repeat myself when under stress.
I repeat myself when under stress.
I repeat..
The more I look at it,
the more I like it.
I do think it's good.
The fact is..
no matter how closely I study it,
no matter how I take it apart,
no matter how I break it down,
It remains consistant.
I wish you were here to see it.

I like it.